IC Time on Earth: Thu Jun 20 13:36:20 2024

<Decepticon> Cyclonus says, "Reflector, report. Have you located the coordinates of Arachnae's transponder signal?"

<Decepticon> Arachnae's automated distress beacon.. triggers.. sends off another pulsed sequence, then another, but weaking in signal strength each pulse.

<Decepticon> Reflector says, "Well... not exactly. I will try harder."

<Decepticon> Cyclonus says, "All available troops, meet me on the landing pad. Reflector, triangulate the signal as close as you can and give me an approximate position. We will home in on the source en-route. Airwolf, if you are listening, assist him."

<Decepticon> Reflector says, "Very well."

NCC Spaceport

The New Crystal City spaceport is an example of what can be done given enough room and materials with which to work. The port contains a huge amount of area, roughly a fifth of the entire city. The landing strips are designed to facilitate vessels of all shapes and sizes, regardless of whether or not they possess VTOL capabilities. Protective hangars are in place to allow proper storage of Imperial space vessels when not in use. Refueling stations, signal lights, and watchtowers are all spread out over the area. There is an extensive network of sky-roads that start and end here and travel to the Central Hub, the Command Center, and to the outer-ring of New Crystal City. As the city is in battle mode, all of the buildings, and even the landing strips themselves, are littered with gun emplacements of all shapes and sizes. With the lack of cover here in this wide-open space, any attack here had better be made with a huge overwhelming force.

Contents:

Cyclonus

Decepticon Shuttle <Triumph>

Decepticon Shuttle <Relentless>

Cargo Shuttle <Pyrite>

Obvious exits:

North <N> leads to NCC Central Command.

Northeast <NE> leads to NCC Central Hub.

East <E> leads to NCC Coastline.

Fly <Up>

<Decepticon> Airwolf says, "Triangulating... First point."

Fleet flies in at high speed, both in compliance to Cyclonus's orders and out of concern for one of the few people he might label 'friend'. He lands lightly near the Commander, awaiting further orders. It actually takes a moment for him to remember just how blasted NERVOUS the other robot makes him.

<Decepticon> Airwolf says, "If someone would give me the original line..."

Cyclonus strides up onto the launching pad and gazes about. "One Decepticon?....." He shakes his head slowly toward Fleet. "Come, we have no time to waste waiting on others. Arachnae must not be captured." Those words being said Cyclonus transforms into his jet form and takes flight.

Cyclonus leaps into the air, shifting into his space fighter mode.

<Decepticon> Airwolf says, "Second line determined... Coordinates result in the United States, state of Iowa."

<Decepticon> Reflector says, "That's what I'm getting."

* Spiny *

North Central States

The North Central States encompass most of the Great Plains as well as the Midwest and Great Lakes regions. The Great Plains isn't just endless fields of grain in Nebraska and Iowa, it also includes the towering buttes of the Dakotas and the fertile river valleys that crisscross Missouri and Kansas as well. The Midwest is broad, clear horizons, a land of gently rolling landscape punctuated by rivers, woods, and trees. The Great Lakes states contain not only the huge metropolitan centers like Chicago, Cincinnati, and St. Louis but big swatches of forest and lakeshore to the north, with gorgeous scenic drives along the Lakes and the tall bluffs of the Ohio river valleys.

Contents:

Decepticon Space-Fighter <Cyclonus>

Mirage

Hot Spot

Arachnae

Warehouse - Metal

Obvious exits:

North <N> leads to Western Provinces - Canada.

South <S> leads to South Central States.

Southeast <SE> leads to Southeastern States.

Southwest <SW> leads to Southwestern States.

East <E> leads to Middle Atlantic States.

West <W> leads to Northwestern States.

Fly <Up> Illinois <IL>

In a warehouse in Iowa, while the warehouse district itself burns:

Hot Spot watches as Arachnae hits the ground after that last strike. Looks like she's out of it. Hot Spot places his axe into subspace once it is removed from the holder on his back. He looks over towards Mirage and gives him a quick glance over, "Lovely." He utters as he turns to look back at Arachnae, "And still... she did not drop whatever she took." It kinda leaves Hot Spot with very little to do... other than to remove Mirage from the wall. He quickly scans over the Autobot Spy, "Hey Mirage, you still with me?" Hot Spot isn't the medical genius that First Aid is.

<Decepticon> Cyclonus says, "Excellent. We will breach North American Airspace in two minutes, within three minutes total we should be in detection range."

Mirage still being unconcious, doesn't not response, his head bowed and his optics dim

Arachnae isn't moving either. Systems smoulder and spark intermitantly, the pool beneath her growing foot by foot. Spark.. pool of fluids.. This could get ugly.

Uglier.

The Protectobot sighs a bit. He looks at Arachnae and the sparking.. and the fluids. Hot Spot shakes his head, "If it's not one thing... it's another." Hot Spot transforms into his Firetruck mode. Apparently since the Decepticon did not give up what Hot Spot demanded of her... he can't just pound it out of her broken body... not while Mirage just sits there getting weaker... possibly dieing. Once in truck mode, Spot uses the ladder to pull Mirage up onto the top of him, and uses the ladder to brace him and keep him there while he moves. The blue firetruck turns on its lights and backs out of the warehouse. As Hot Spot leaves it, he is reminded of the fire that is raging down the block. He can not help them any longer... and makes note of this places location. He'll have to make it up to this town some other time.

Hot Spot transforms into his Blue Firetruck mode.

Right about now Autobot perimeter alarms would be going haywire. Something, or someone has just blown past North American airspace, apparently outrunning the EDC fighters stationed at nearby bases. If it's that fast, then it can't be a good sign. The offending craft is of course, Cyclonus, who leads a legion of loyal Decepticon soldiers <read: 1 seeker> toward where Arachnae's distress beacon has been activated.

Mirage limply lies, face-down, on the blue fire-truck's roof, one arm dangling over the side of Hot Spot's alt mode.

A Fleet of one follows Cyclonus, struggling to keep up with the other craft but determined not to fall behind, both to avoid the consequences of failure and out of concern for the medical head. His concentration is focused on that.

Arachnae would be dreaming were she asleep. Being unconcious has its downsides. Than gain, it also has it's perks. Such as not feeling the gaping mess where a shoulder was, the crunch-crumple of a wing pinned and broken beheath her, the sharp acrid sting of internal electrical systems, now free of her internal grounding, shorting this way and that. It also prevents her from feeling anything such as chagrin, remorse or even embarrassment. At least for the moment.

The Firetruck, with Mirage secured on top, begins to move westward. The Firetruck is going to be going a far distance. Iowa to the closest base of operations. However, the pedal is placed on the metal and the blue firetruck careens across town with light sand sirens ablaze. Then the parimeter alarms are tripped and Hot Spot immediately knows someone's coming to pick up their fallen comrade.

Cyclonus continues at nearly breakneck speed toward the signal he received, slowing only a bit when he detects the presence of Autobots. Internally he ponders the current situation. Attack or leave them be, the fires near where the signal is coming from eventually make the decision for him. "Let them go." He broadcasts to Fleet. "I have marked their energy signatures, they will pay for their cowardly attack on our Medical CO. For now, we must recover her before the fire reaches the fuel tanks outside the warehouse. No technician will be capable of reassembling her if that building explodes." He banks off toward the industrial complex, coming in for a landing approach.

The tetrajet doesn't give a reply in words, so much, but in a brief radio acknowledgement that has the equivalent meaning to "I understand, and will obey." He is always more than happy to follow the orders of his superiors, especially when said orders involve him _not_ getting shot at. He follows Cyclonus, lowering his altitude as the other does as he prepares to transform and land.

All manners of system errors tend to glitch and spawn when unconciousness doesn't end the damage sequences. The dark blue medical operative twitches, but it's simply a matter of impulses misfireing sequentially, internal systems weaking working to stem the continued flash-pop burning. The occasional spark raises a glimmer of foxfire (not the character - the electrical haze) seeping out of her wounds. The phosfire (to prevent further confusion) outlines the broken femme, reflecting and refracting off the remains of internal fluids that have begun to seep into the concrete flooring, having eaten through the sealent to the pourus material at this point.

Sensors pick up the incoming, and the Firetruck just books as fast as it can. Hot Spot doesn't want to fight any more.. he didn't want to fight Arachnae... but she was stubburn! The Protectobot just careens down the road... to leave salvage operations up to the Decepticons that came to assist Nae.

Mirage has left.

Hot Spot takes Mirage.

The spacejet transforms and Cyclonus touches down just inside the warehouse's main doors, his ever-present scowl deepening as he finds Arachnae lying broken and defeated. "Cowardly wretches....." Cyclonus strides slowly over toward the damaged femme and lifts her up into his arms. Sure, some of the sparks burn his paintjob and her wounds leak internal fluids all over his armor, he seems not to be concerned with such things at the moment, as Arachnae is simply too valuable an asset to leave behind.

The futuristic jet pulls up sharply, unfolding itself to reveal Cyclonus.

Hot Spot moves the great distance west to the Northwestern State region.

Hot Spot has left.

Pyramid Jet (Fleet) transforms as he lands, touching down and running into the warehouse, his steps so light it's almost certain that he's got his anti-gravs still on. He takes several steps back as he sees the condition of the medical officer. Yes, he's seen worse in the long war, but not often to someone he cared for. Upon seeing the broken femme, he is reminded why he so rarely allowed himself to care for others. Well, that, and the discovery that he's a coward has occasionally been known to drive potential friends away...

Fleet transforms from pyramid jet to robot.

Arachnae is dead weight. All unlocked servos and damaged joints. Wings are a true wreck, one crumpled, the other bent and twisted in on its own panels. One shoulder, the left one where her insignia and rank badge usually sit, is a manged mess of a gash, no markings remaining as the armoring has been knocked in on itself, rendering that arm useless. Even her visor took damage, spiderweb fractures across the transparent piece. But her mask remains firmly in place, obscuring whatever expression she went unconcious with. And yes, Cyclonus, she's bleeding all over you.

Cyclonus carries the damaged femme out of the warehouse and turns toward Fleet. "Destroy it.... all of it." He inclines his head toward the industrial complex. "....leave no buildings standing, a reminder for the Autobots to remain out of our affairs." He activates his antigravs and lifts into the air, transforming around Arachnae so that she rests comfortably in the command chair inside his cockpit. "When the time comes, I shall let Arachnae strike the final blow against the two Autobots who wronged her." He hovers in mid-air briefly. "Be quick about your task Fleet, and return to New Crystal City with all due haste."

Cyclonus leaps into the air, shifting into his space fighter mode.

Cyclonus' cockpit smoothly swings open.

Arachnae has left.

Cyclonus' cockpit snaps shut quietly.

Fleet skitter-dances back out of the warehouse and skips into the air - since he never really shut his antigravs off to being with, one could hardly call it a leap - firing at the fuel tanks outside the warehouse with his laser once he has reached sufficient distance to ensure his own safety. Then he transforms back to his tetrajet form to rain his more efficient rockets down upon the complex, leveling it bit by bit, employing his rail guns and lasers intelligently when a sufficiently explosive target presents itself. With no opposition, he makes short work of the human establishments.

Fleet transforms from robot to pyramid jet.

Decepticon Space-Fighter <Cyclonus> turns and heads back toward Earth's orbit, so much quicker and more efficient to slingshot off the outer atmosphere back to the lower end of the Earth than attempting to actually circumnavigate the entire globe. He does not wait for Fleet, assured in his own mind that the seeker will have no trouble wiping out the buildings without his supervision.

Decepticon Space-Fighter <Cyclonus> soars upward to the Sky above the Central United States.

Decepticon Space-Fighter <Cyclonus> has left.

* Explosions, then spiny *

NCC Spaceport

The New Crystal City spaceport is an example of what can be done given enough room and materials with which to work. The port contains a huge amount of area, roughly a fifth of the entire city. The landing strips are designed to facilitate vessels of all shapes and sizes, regardless of whether or not they possess VTOL capabilities. Protective hangars are in place to allow proper storage of Imperial space vessels when not in use. Refueling stations, signal lights, and watchtowers are all spread out over the area. There is an extensive network of sky-roads that start and end here and travel to the Central Hub, the

Command Center, and to the outer-ring of New Crystal City. As the city is in battle mode, all of the buildings, and even the landing strips themselves, are littered with gun emplacements of all shapes and sizes. With the lack of cover here in this wide-open space, any attack here had better be made with a huge overwhelming force.

Contents:

Cyclonus

Decepticon Shuttle <Triumph>

Decepticon Shuttle <Relentless>

Cargo Shuttle <Pyrite>

Obvious exits:

North <N> leads to NCC Central Command.

Northeast <NE> leads to NCC Central Hub.

East <E> leads to NCC Coastline.

Fly <Up>

Arachnae remains the mangled lip, leaking, sparking mess she was when found. And the onduty medical staff responds to the broadcasted message with something akin to a mild disorderly panic. At least inside the confines of medical. Once they get themselve sout of th einitial panic, they organize, collect and traipse to the landing pad area, awaiting Cyclonus' arrival.

Pyramid Jet (Fleet) lowers his altitude as he approachs the city, returning post haste, as ordered. As soon as his sensors pick up the other two he transforms into robot mode to allow for hovering, although he keeps his distance so as not to get in the way, respectfully awaiting further orders.

Cyclonus stalks down to where the hoversled and technicians are awaiting their patient and gently places Arachnae on the surface of the transport. "Her repairs are to be conducted immediately, and to the most exacting standards. Failure to comply will result in a visit to my office...." failing to mention that his office floor is stained with the blood of many a Decepticon. "Fleet." He turns his attention to the seeker. "Refuel and re-arm yourself. You are given 24 hours leave beginning as soon as you are finished. Dismissed."

Fleet stands up straight at attention as he is addressed. "Yes, Commander," is his only answer, his tone both sharp and military. He spares one more concerned glance for the femme - hey, glances are free, so it costs him nothing to give her one - before hurrying off to comply with Cyclonus's orders, knowing that at least some of his free time will be spent trying as unobtrusively as possible to find out how the semi-Sweep is doing, but much will probably be spent on Cybertron in... training, of sorts.